The Big Bird Cage (Jack Hill, 1972)

Well, I guess there’s much not to be liked in THE BIG BIRD CAGE, Jack Hill’s semi-sequel to his own superior THE BIG DOLL HOUSE (1971). Maybe that is even understandable, inasmuch as it was a project born out of the unexpected success of the first movie and the serious money it had made despite the very limited budget. Moreover, it was Hill’s intention to make a “proper” sequel to the first movie, but he didn’t have any of the original actors (but Pam Grier and Sid Haig) at hand as they were filming all over the Philippines in other productions. And, adding insult to adversity, Corman asked Hill to tone down the grittiness and violence of the first film in hopes of reaching an even wider audience. Yes, that’s the recipe to get something that will displease almost everyone who loved the first film.






But, weird guy that I am, I simply love THE BIG BIRD CAGE, despite all its faults. Yes, it is true that the violence is immensely toned down; and that the creepy warden and torturing guards are replaced here by a an histrionic warden obsessed with his “big bird cage” – a giant sugar mill of his own design – and a cadre of big fat unctuous homosexual guards that were as un-PC in 1972 as they are today (and more enjoyable for that). And even sexual violence is toned down and muted, peeking from behind the teasing promises of the abundant female flesh in exhibition here (I don’t remember seeing another movie with this ratio of nipple-slips).





But… the film has a lot of other points to commend it and, if you’re of the right frame of mind, to make you love it. For starters, the photography by Felipe Sacdalan (credited as Philip Sacdalan) is simply stunning in its use of colour and light when capturing some breathtaking Filipino locations around Luzon. Then we have the mad intricacy of the “big bird cage” itself, designed by Jack Hill’s own father, a veteran art director and set designer, and the man responsible for the creation of Disney’s Castle. And what to say of Hill’s own script, a delight of funny quips, smart comebacks and satiric comments that gains impetus all along the movie, never relenting, until the surprising body-count of the film’s finale?









All this adds up to create a fantasy world, a time that never-was, a hinterland of erotic dreams inhabited by beautiful, smart women, crazy homosexual men and fun amiable revolutionaries. And it is to the credit of Jack Hill that he could steer this mishmash of improbable elements, keeping it from veering too far into silliness or from falling down the pits of unfunny camp comedy. And trust me, there are plenty of laughs here; and it’s a joy to watch some very good actors having so much fun playing their parts.

Andy Centenera as the scenery chewing Warden Zappa and Sid Haig as the carefree and womanizer revolutionary leader play with gusto their opposite roles; Subas Herrero and Vic Diaz (both also appearing in BLACK MAMA, WHITE MAMA) are a delight to behold as the two chief gay guards that compete with one another for the attention of Haig when he infiltrates the prison working as a guard (the sole requisite seems to be being a homosexual).











And then, we have the girls: first and foremost, the indomitable and unequalled Pam Grier, appearing here at her best: gorgeous, funny, tough, ad libing with gusto and getting to sing another catchy tune (if she wasn’t such a fine actress she could perfectly have had made it in the music world). This time she his surrounded by a host of gorgeous women (many of them in their first appearances, some of them in their only appearance in film): Anitra Ford as the seductress that gets arrested because she became a political liability because she’s been fucking the Prime-Minister; Candice Roman, the sprightly and cute blonde that has all the best lines; Teda Bracci (a real rock singer), the tough girl that commands respect and love both from her mates and the viewer; Carol Speed, the delightful black girl that suffers the cruellest death in the film and Rizza Fabian, the Mindanao exotic beauty that rats on the others because the Warden has a say over her son’s destiny.



It is impossible to cover in such a brief review all that goes on in this precious little exploiter. Sid Haig’s Django debating the politics of revolution with his followers that want to raid the female prison because they think the revolution needs more babies (“And do you have any particular bastille in mind?”, he asks). The government party that is inspecting the prison only to get fed up with the trite politically correct speech of the Warden: “Yes, yes, but lets us get to the girls”. And the two best lines of all: Carla (Roman) and Mickie (Speed) debating if Terry (Ford) is a “whore” or a “political”. “Among us, honest thieves and murderers, there’s nothing lower than a political”, says Carla. And when Mickie learns that Terry has been shagging the Prime-Minister: “See, I told her she was all right. She’s a whore”, before Carla observes that she isn’t making it for the money. “She’s not a whore! She’s political!”















But the belly-breaker roll-on-the-floor moment belongs to Vic Diaz. When Terry tries to escape from prison, she ends up about to be gang-raped by some guys to whom she asks to use a phone (yeah, really). She is spared from a fate worse than death (“You can’t rape me…”, she said early on to Django. “I like sex!”) by the sudden arrival of Diaz’s Rocco with some soldiers and the search dogs. Quickly grasping what was going on, and looking from the horny Filipinos to the semi-naked Terry, he just mutters: Oh darn. Nothing like that ever happens to me.











On the whole, THE BIG DOLL HOUSE is great fun. It rehashes some of the ingredients of the previous film and either improves or comments on them through a kinf of don’t-take-it-so-seriously wink of the cinematic eye. Pam Grier is, if possible, even more lovely In this film. She improvised the line “It’s miss nigger to you” when she docks another inmate that calls her nigger. We are also treated to some scenes in the exterior, as well as to a collective mud fight, before arriving at the explosive final battle, with its desperate dash through the jungle, heroic deaths and accounts settled. It is eye-candy of a superior quality and harks back to a time when doing indie cinema meant doing fun, over the top movies, instead of the mushy moralizing pseudo-cine verité crap that comes out of Sundance every year.



And you could still be political while doing it. Not just a commercial whore.

Black Mama, White Mama (Eddie Romero, 1973)

Although usually reviled by both critics and viewers alike, I find that BLACK MAMA, WHITE MAMA, is not only the best film Eddie Romero has ever directed, but also one of my favourite exploitation films of the seventies. In part that is due to the wonderful performances of Pam Grier and Margaret Markov, surprisingly restrained in terms of camp and nudity, but nonetheless pretty rich in warmth and complicity. Add to that some memorable performances from a bevy of supporting actors, from the sexy lesbian couple of guard and warden played with some affection by Lynn Borden and Laurie Burton, campy cowboy bounty hunter Ruben (a wonderful Sid Haig), seedy lowlife drug baron Chen (Vic Diaz) and the surprisingly fit and funny revolutionary leader Ernesto (Zaldy Zschornack), and you’ll get a little gem of a film that will shine through the nooks and crannies of the admittedly scant plot to its bittersweet ending.

Said ending is one of the points of contention among detractors of the movie that think it a denial of everything that happened before; and to some extent it is… but that is life’s way, and although one can not claim that BMWM is a realistic portrayal of life in a female penal colony in some tropical island in the seventies (the movie was lensed in the Philippines), we can not use that fact to deride the few elements of political and social allegory that Jonathan Demme’s script wove all over the fantasy core of the narrative.

And what is the narrative, filled with subplots as it is? Lee Daniels (Pam Grier) and Karen Brent (Margaret Markov), a hooker and a revolutionary, arrive at a female correctional facility run by lesbian warden (Burton) and overseen by her partner Logan (gorgeous actress Lynn Borden), who has the habit of peeping on the prisoners while they shower and to demand sexual favours in exchange for a better treatment. Following a catfight in the prison cantina between Daniels and Brent, both women do a stinch on a hotbox prior to being transferred to a maximum security prison on the city, where they will be interrogated concerning the drug traffic of Daniels’s pimp and the guerrilla’s activity of Brent’s insurrectionist group. Before they get to their destination, the paddy wagon is ambushed by the guerrillas trying to free Brent, and during the ensuing fire-fight both women escape into the jungle, chained to one another, in a clear rehash of THE DEFIANT ONES (Stanley Kramer, 1958).

Although free from the police, they both have distinct agendas: Daniels wants to regain possession of a loot of some 40.000 dollars that she stole from her pimp/boyfriend, and Brent needs to be reunited to her guerrilla companions for she is the only one who can broker a weapons deal that will allow the revolutionaries to fight the corrupt government. That puts them at odds with one another, as they both remain chained to each other and want to follow in different directions. To complicate their difficult and unwanted cooperation, they are being pursued not only by the police, but also by a bounty hunter hired by one of the cops, Cheng’s gang of assassins and Ernesto’s Guerrillas, all of which will have a major showdown on the Fiipino docks in the fiery climactic battle.

Although the heart of the movie resides on the cementing of Grier’s and Markov’s character’s friendship and trust, we feel that they are bound to one another long before they get chained on the paddy wagon. For they are – or seem to be – complete opposites; and as every physics student will tell you, you can’t put two opposites in the same box without them being violently attracted.

The relationship between both women is clearly clichéd, but it is also that relation that justifies the unpopular ending of the film. The mutual despite is obvious from step one, and maybe better voiced when near the end Daniels tells Brent that “I’ve been a revolutionary since I was 13 – the first time I was paid to do it”, hinting that her descent into prostitution was a kind of stance against the system, a means of survival, a strengthner of character. In contrast, Markov’s revolutionary feels more like a pampered rich girl that got bored of having every whim satisfied and wanted to try some action fighting for the poor, something she never was. And the film seems to bear testimony to it.

When we first see Karen Brent on the police wagon that is taking her to prison, she seems more annoyed than frightened or worried with what she was about to experience. She visibly dislikes Daniels that is in the wagon with her, a dislike of which the hooker partakes, eyeing Brent as if she was just a child playing at being a revolutionary with her shiny golden hair, pouty lips and clean battle fatigues. And indeed, despite being a prostitute, Daniels refuses the sexual advances of Logan, asserting her determination to face whatever conditions she would be dealt, but keeping the power to decide what to do, with whom and when. Not so Brent, who easily accepts the unwelcome attention of the guard, as if she is not used to be treated roughly and will do anything in her power not to be hurt. Here it is Daniels who is the revolutionary and Brent the prostitute.

When they fight in the cantina, it is because Daniels shows resentment for Brent surrender before the corruption of the system, and the way Brent deals with it is more akin to a spoilt child than a mature revolutionary. Later on, already chained, when they first fight over which direction to follow – in one of the most erotic bitch slapping contest you can think of (although there is no nudity or clothes-tearing) – Daniels has no trouble in overpowering the weaker girl, showing her totally unfit for guerrilla warfare.

Then, although the plot is to thin to allow room for deep character building, it is during their run from their pursuers that they begin to respect one another, to learn to cooperate and to love each other, a moment of bonding that occurs when Daniels kills Luis (Subas Herrero) when he attempts to rape Brent. If when they escaped the wagon Daniels seems to kill Logan out of pure revenge for the corruption she stands for, and Brent seems more like a unwilling participant, when it comes the time to kill Luis it is for survival, true, but it is also to protect a friend.

And that is why Brent must die. After growing from a pampering rich girl into a true revolutionary, she must die with boots on and a gun in her hand, helping Daniels escape from the killers. Just as had recently happened to Che Guevara - another Ernesto - whose pictures exposed by the CIA made him look Christ-like. It is a shocking and unexpected death, but it is a beautiful death nonetheless. Elegiac, one could say, as it seems fit for a hero – for a revolutionary fighting against the corrupt system that we’ve been shown all over the film, where the girls meet no one that is sympathetic. And it is the expression of pain and loss in Daniels face that most clearly shows us that Brent has grown up to be that hero she used to play at. And no ending could be more fit to this movie.